Page 26 of Cowboy Elite 2: Mike

But her feet wouldn't move. Her hands locked around the paper plates, grease soaking through, burning her palms.

The man, mid-thirties, sunburned, holding a plastic cup half full of beer, squinted at her. "Olivia Langford?"

The ground seemed to tilt.

"No, I think you've got the wrong person."

"I knew I recognized you," he continued, swaying slightly. "New York. Man, you were at that gala with those ridiculous chocolate towers! You catered that thing at the... what was it? Chelsea Pier?"

Liv's heart stopped.

"C'mon... I remember that accent. I asked if you made that mousse with goat cheese." He laughed, like they were old friends.

Oh, my God.

What were the odds of running into someone who might recognize her in a place like Bear Valley? She'd chosen this job, this town, for its remoteness. Because it was the polar opposite of where she'd come from.

She took a step back. "You're mistaken."

The man stepped forward, the smell of beer on his breath hitting her in the face. "No... you're Olivia. Tall, smart-mouthed chef with those killer?—"

A hand landed on his shoulder from behind.

Mike.

He stepped between them, casual but dangerous. This was not the carefree, fun-loving man she'd gotten to know. "Problem?"

The guy blinked. "Whoa... sorry, buddy. Just saying hi. Thought I recognized her."

Mike didn't move. "I think she said you were mistaken."

The man raised both hands. "Okay, okay. Jeez." He backed away into the crowd, muttering something about small world coincidences.

Mike turned, eyes scanning Liv's face. She was pale. Frozen. Clutching their plates like a shield.

"Liv..." he said gently, reaching for her arm.

"I'm fine." Her voice trembled. Her hands shook.

"You're not fine."

"I said I'm—" She caught herself, saw his expression, and deflated. "Can we just go sit down?"

He nodded, took the plates from her, and led her over to the bleachers at the far end of the arena overlooking the mutton bustin’ event that was just starting. Kids in oversized helmets clung to sheep like determined barnacles while the crowd laughed and cheered.

It was the kind of innocent chaos that might have comforted her once.

Mike sat beside her on the lowest bench, set the plates down, and waited.

"You okay?" he asked.

Liv exhaled shakily. "I thought I could handle this place. Being out in the open. But I forgot..."

"Forgot what?"

She stared past the arena to the far ridgeline. "That shadows follow. Even in broad daylight. I let myself feel safe in a crowd. Last night, even this morning. And something about that makes me feel reckless. Or stupid."

"You're not stupid." His voice was firm. "You're fighting to stay afloat. And sometimes when you stay too still, the tide catches up. That doesn't make you weak. It means you're human."